Column 1: Coming Out Story (Part 1)

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel” - Maya Angelou

Wine: ONEHOPE CA Brut Sparkling Wine Silver Shimmer Etched Edition - Pride

Recipe: Garlic Butter Salmon with Prosciutto Asparagus Bundles

Salmon & Sparkling…it just has a nice ring to it, and the two are a perfect pairing. The light, yet buttery, salmon is a nice contrast to the slightly sweet & citrusy notes in this California Brut. This recipe is fitting for the first column because 1. I’m popping many bottles to celebrate that this blog is finally launched! 2. This was the first recipe I posted on @cookingforone1 after I moved to Napa, and 3. This bottle is encrusted in silver glitter and is my fav pride bottle we’ve done so far. For me, this pride month is all about self love, and the relationship you have with yourself, which I’ve learned is the most important one in your life.

I was sitting on a barstool in our kitchen of the small Mission Hills craftsman home I had spent my whole life growing up in. My sister Sarah sat across from me. We were having a casual conversation about something I can’t remember now. My stomach was in knots and my heart was racing so fast that I thought it might just explode and I’d simply just die right there and not have to go through with this.

It was the summer of 2012 and I had just finished my sophomore year in college. I was back in San Diego and slowly growing the courage to share with my family the secret I had been keeping for 20 years. Going to college had been a good thing for me. It got me out of the catholic southern California bubble I had grown up in, and opened my mind to so much more possibility of what my life could look like.

I had so many fears. I didn’t want to be stereotyped. I didn’t want to share one part of myself, and have the world automatically make assumptions about the rest of me. I was afraid of rejection, abandonment and those close to me being embarrassed of me. I was scared that my friends would feel like I hookwinked them into becoming friends with someone who had lied to them. I was lonely, and I didn’t feel that I had anyone to talk to about the reason why. It saddened me that not one person in my life really knew me, knew all of me. Me hiding one part of myself caused me to hide many other things about myself. It was an unhealthy domino effect that resulted in no one really knowing who I truly was, and I didn’t like the person I could see myself becoming.  Above all else, I felt that I was wasting my life by living this lie, and I wanted people to know me. I didn’t want to continue to create a life built on lies. I could see vividly what my life would look like if I kept living in fear, continually lying to people about something so important in my life. I knew that I could be a better version of myself, and that I could do great things in my life. By that point, I had realized that me hiding part of myself was getting in the way.

I had spent most of my life not fully sharing who I was with those closest to me, and that had caused a certain amount of distance in those relationships. There was always a certain amount of myself that I would hold back, and I think people sensed that. I  had left high school feeling like I didn’t have many meaningful friendships, and I was beginning to realize why. I’d bounce around from group to group, wanting to be friends with everyone, all the while not making deep relationships with anyone. I felt that because I was ashamed about one part of myself,  that I needed to win the approval of everyone around me to make up for my insecurities about that part of myself. Looking back, I’m disappointed in myself for letting that happen. I wish I had been a better friend back then. I wrote about all of this in one of my journal entries in 2011, one year after highschool. I wrote that I’d realized that mistake and that I wouldn’t repeat that mistake with my new friends I had made in my first year in college.

Anyway, back to that evening in July of 2012: I was just a few weeks away from leaving to study abroad in Italy for 4 months, and I had a “somewhat strategic” plan…or at least I thought it was. My thinking was that if it didn’t go well, I had just a few short weeks before I was leaving the country for 4 months. If the news didn’t go over well, I thought that maybe the space would give everyone time to process the news. And if it went great, then what better place to celebrate the start of a fresh chapter than in Italy with endless chianti and gelato?!

I knew for a while that I was going to tell my older sister Sarah first. I was in a fragile state and it was important to me that the first person I told was someone that I knew with complete certainty would receive the news well and be accepting.

Our mom had just spent a few days in the hospital for a hip surgery. On the night I decided to muster up the courage to tell Sarah, we had just gotten home from visiting her post surgery. At the time Sarah was living in San Francisco, but in town for a few weeks to help take care of our mom. We were both tired, and I remember it was dark out. We were sitting at the bar counter top that divided the kitchen and dining room.

I looked over at her, told her I needed to tell her something, and then just blurted it out, “Sar, I’m gay”. There was a brief look of surprise on her face before her mouth turned into a grin. She got out of her chair, came around to my side of the bar and gave me a hug. The quote that I opened this column with captures the sentiment of this story better than I could put into words myself. I wish I could remember her exact words that night, but I know they made me feel completely supported, accepted and loved.

We stayed up late that night talking, and me explaining the huge wave of relief after having gotten that off of my chest. After years of keeping it inside, I felt like a massive weight had been lifted off of me. One thing I always remember about Sarah is the question she constantly asked me growing up. I think she would see me going into my introverted self, and sense that there was something on my mind that I wasn’t sharing at the time. Being the shrewd & no bullshit person that anyone who knows Sarah Gora well, knows all too well, knows that she gets directly to the point when she wants to know something.  In these moments when I seemingly had left the present, she would, like clockwork, always ask, “Dan-o, whatcha thinkin about?”. She always said it assertively but with compassion, and I often sensed that she could very easily tell whether or not I was being truthful in sharing what was really on my mind. In those moments in the years before I came out, my heart would skip a beat and I would instantly freeze, pause, and think of something clever or witty to divert. Anything to share what was actually on my mind. Oftentimes I was covering up feelings of loneliness, confusion or shame. It wasn’t until after I came out that I began to answer those questions honestly and share what was on my mind. I’ve felt that my relationship with Sarah, along with so many others, has deepened since the moment I decided to share that part of myself.

To this day I still feel like I’m unraveling the tightly spun ball of shame, internalized homophobia and fear that had slowly grown larger as I grew up. Looking back, its alarming how the habit of not fully sharing what was actually on my mind became my standard operating procedure. The habit of hiding my sexuality had caused a consistent habit of not sharing other things that were on my mind. The feeling that part of myself was inferior to others had caused a feeling that other parts of me were inferior by default. Like I said, as I write this 10 years later today, I still feel like I am shaking that habit. I have so much more to share about my thoughts on this specific topic, but I will leave it at that for now.

I have always (and still to a certain extent still do) used humor as a coping mechanism. For so long I was so conditioned in the simple, but toxic, habit of not fully sharing my true self in so many ways. A big part of this is trusting those around me. Trusting that I can share my true self with others without being rejected by them. Trusting that I am worthy of their time and attention. Looking back, I am realizing how much of an act I was putting on in so many areas of my life. It's really been in my time of going to therapy that I have realized how I can show up as myself, and not feel like I need to put on an act to win people's approval. Once again, I could easily, and plan to, go into this subject much deeper, but I will leave it there for now. This struggle is something that I am still working on, but I’m getting better.

It was a few weeks before I told another person. Before I knew it, it was mid August and my dad’s birthday. I was sitting in the backyard of my parents house eating dinner with the two of them and older brother, John. What I didn’t know at the time was this was one of the last meals we would ever share with him.

John had left the table to go skateboarding in the alley next to our house. I had wanted him at the table so I could tell everyone at one time, but as we all know, things like this rarely go to plan. Inside I panicked for a few moments, but another part of me was relieved that he left so that I didn’t have to deal with his response in that already incredibly nerve wracking moment. Right when I was about to spill the beans, the phone rang. I remember thinking in my head,  “Good lord, another curve ball?! I can’t take this shit.” Anyway, as luck would have it, it was Sarah. I quickly realized this was a good thing. I felt a sense of comfort having her there in my corner. We put her on speaker and after a few minutes of greetings and catching up, there was a brief pause in the conversation. So I took my opportunity, and said something along the lines of, “I’m glad Sarah called, because there is something I want to tell you mom and dad. I’m gay.” There was a pause, and then I looked up to see a grin on my dad’s face. Again, I don’t remember the actual words he said, but I remember how he made me feel. There was no negative energy on his part, at least none that I felt. And since then I have always felt that in that moment he was happy to know that piece of information so that he could get to know his son that much better.

My mom was shocked. At least she looked shocked. I remember her stammering a bit and looking confused. I could see the wheels turning in her head. She was processing. My mom has always been, and still is, a very religious woman. I could tell that she was struggling to process the things her religion had told her about people that were gay. However, the innate and unshakable thing that I know that she knew for sure without question, was that she loved me. In that moment I could tell that she had never put much thought into the idea or possibility of me being gay. Whether that's a good or bad thing, I’m still not sure, and frankly it doesn’t really matter.

In true Sarah Gora fashion of never mincing her words, I remember she cut off my moms stuttering and stammering and sharply said, “It's fine! Mom, this is fine!”. I still laugh as I write this because I can hear her voice in my head, clear as day, and her tone and conviction in knowing that this shouldn’t change anyone's view of me. Whether it did is a different story. But Sarah is a fierce lioness and she was protecting her little brother. It wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, especially in matters relating to this topic…oh, you just wait.

But anyway, at that moment my mom gathered herself and expressed that she loved me and was glad I told her. The rest of what she said, I don’t remember. Again you may not remember what people say, but you do remember how they make you feel. And in that moment she made me feel that she was shocked, that she was processing this information, and that she loved me. And that was enough for me.

It wasn’t until years later that my mom and I talked more in depth about when I came out to her, and fully unpacked the interaction that the two of us had that night. She explained that any shock & hesitation that she felt in that moment was a result of the intense fear for how society would treat me. She would read in the newspaper and watch the news to see all of the horrible things that would happen to openly gay individuals across the country, and her worst fear was that those things would happen to me now that I was open about my sexuality. I think there is definitely something to be said about how the generation that our parents grew up in was far less accepting than the world we live in today, and for the ever present concern that all parents have for the safety of their children. It was a far different world back then. By no means am I saying that there isn’t danger or hate in the world today...we all know that’s not true. We have come a long way but still have quite a ways to go. One of the many reasons why writing this blog has been like medicine for me, is that it has been a conversation starter (or in this case a re-ignition of sorts) for many conversations I had never had with people that I wish I had sooner. 

As our phone call with Sarah came to an end, I had a brief wave of relief before my anxiety set back in. The next person I was going to tell was my brother John. I remember feeling so mentally exhausted by that point. The realization of how long this road of coming out would be was starting to settle in, and my mental energy and emotional strength was dwindling. I remember feeling like I just needed to rip the bandaid off.

As we finished dinner, John walked in the gate with his skateboard in hand, and I just abruptly blurted out, “Hey John, I’m gay.” I said it calmly, but sharply. To this day I still wish I hadn’t been as cold and distant with my tone. He briefly paused in his stride, looked over, said “OK”, turned his back to me, and continued to walk in the house.

John was definitely one person that I felt would be a wildcard in terms of his reaction to the news, but I was shocked at how indifferent he was at that moment. You could have sworn I had just told him something as simple as I was running out to grab a carton of milk. I felt like his tone was indifferent and borderline cold, but I guess it could have been worse. Maybe the way I told him warranted his response. Little did I know at that moment, it certainly would get worse in just a few short hours later.

By that time, I needed some alone time. I was exhausted. I told that sentiment to my parents and retreated into my bedroom. It was one of those times where you feel so drained, that you literally can’t take in any more stimuli and just needed to sit alone in silence. I still had two people I wanted to tell that day - my oldest sister, Heather, and my brother in law, Mark. After telling Sarah, I knew that when I was ready to share the news with the rest of the family, that I wanted the rest of my immediate family to all know within as short of a time period as possible. I was done keeping the secret from them and had already felt a little guilty that Sarah had known for the amount of time she did before everyone else did. Anyway, I try to not let myself feel guilty about that. I did the best I could do with the time & energy I had. Anyway, even though my parents were a big hurdle, I needed to get in contact with Het (as we call her) and Mark as soon as I could. The two of them had first met when I was 6 years old. I consider Mark a brother and it was important that the two of them knew at the same time. I called them but they didn’t answer.

I put down the phone and I sat in silence for a few minutes. I was still decompressing and processing the events of that evening. It must not have been more than 5 minutes before I heard the backdoor of our house creek open and footsteps walking across our backyard. At that time, my bedroom was in our garage that was converted into a bedroom. We grew up in a small & charming old craftsman house that was built in the early 1900’s. By the time we were a family of 6 and my older sisters were teenagers (and needing some personal space). Sarah took it upon herself to convert our garage into a bedroom where she could retreat and get a little peace and quiet from the rest of the family. Anyway, I remember feeling my anxiety mount again as the footsteps approached the door. The door opened and it was John.

To this day the memory of the conversation is still a bit of a blur. What ensued was, for the most part, a 1 sided conversation of John unloading his feelings about me being gay. He explained to me how surprised he was, and how he didn’t see how the two of us could have a relationship after learning this news. He unloaded his stream of consciousness in a way that seemed disjointed, like he hadn’t fully processed the news and was just sharing his raw thoughts. The strange part about it was how matter of fact he was in sharing his feelings. It was like he had this pre programmed notion in his mind like he didn’t have friends that were gay, and didn’t understand now how I would now fit into his life. The tone was borderline cold, yet it didn’t feel like it was malicious in spirit. He truly looked like he was struggling with the news and just sharing his raw thoughts and feedback. I didn’t feel like he was trying to deliver his response in any way that was sensitive to how his response would make me feel. I was in a fragile state and I felt like with his words, he had picked up a glass vase with a crack in it, and thrown it on a cement wall. From the moment he started speaking, I sat there frozen, 50% in shock of what he was saying, but also 50% feeling completely exhausted and not feeling like I had the energy or the will to fight back.

I don’t think the conversation lasted longer than 5 minutes. By the time he was done unloading, I simply looked back at him, semi snapping out of my frozen state, and said, “OK, fine”. At that moment, I couldn’t fight him about it. Like I said, I just didn’t have the energy or will power to do so. In the weeks leading up to me coming out, I tried to prepare myself mentally for the adversity likely to come my way, trying to come to peace with the fact that there would be some people that just wouldn’t accept me. Part of me suspected John may react this way, but the other part of me hoped that since he was my brother, he would try harder to be accepting. I had once watched or read Oprah say that as you get higher on the climb of the mountain of your life, some people on your journey just wouldn’t be able to handle the altitude. I had tried to remember that on that day. And out of protection for myself in the state I was in, I just didn’t have it in me to fight back. And that's one of the things that still bothers me today. I still wonder if I would have tried to fight a little harder for our relationship, that the two of us could have had a happier ending before he passed away. Our conversation pretty much ended after that. We may have exchanged a few more words, but if we did, I don’t remember them.

Moments after John closed the door of “the shed” as we would call it, and just when I thought I had reached my breaking point that day, my phone rang. It was Heather. The exhausted side of me hesitated answering for a moment, but I still wanted to tell everyone in my family that day, so I picked it up. After our normal greetings I told her that I wanted to tell her and Mark something. What I didn’t realize was that they weren’t together that night. At the time, Mark was a professional baseball player and traveling with his team. Beyond that, she also shared that they just found out that he had been released from his team that same day. Talk about a curveball…see what I did there? And I really don’t play or know very much about sports, ha! Anyway, I was thrown for a loop by that news. She said she would try to get a hold of him, but considering the big news he had just received, she didn’t know if he would be up for a chat, and rightly so. She asked if I could just tell her then. I really wanted the two of them together so that they could both hear the news directly from me. Similarly to Sarah, if Het wants a piece of information out of you, you have a slim chance of denying her that information. After a bit of hemming and hawing, I ended up caving and telling her then. She was instantly supportive. And for the first time in this whole coming out process, I broke down to tears.

I have always been the type of person that is not prone to crying in a variety of highly emotional situations that most people would cry in, but what always gets me, without failure, is when I’m feeling drained, stressed or kicked down (and I was all 3 of those in that moment), and someone that I care about shows me kindness. Without failure, I will break. And that was the first emotional release of that process. All of the built up tension from the past few weeks and especially the conversation I had just had with John was released. I remember her saying in the softest yet strongest way, “It’s ok”. I can still hear the tone of her voice with those two words in my head, and it still gives me the chills…in the best way.

I think now is as a good of a time as ever to pause to mention one of the many incredible things about my two older sisters, Heather and Sarah. They couldn’t be more different in many ways, but one of the things I love most about them is that they are FIERCE protectors of those that they love. Both as their brother and watching them mother each of their 3 incredible kids, it never ceases to amaze me, time after time, when I witness them go to bat for those that they care about. I’ve heard that to be a common characteristic of most mothers, which is incredible, but I think these two are among the fiercest of moms. Incredibly loving and caring, but if you rub them the wrong way, you better run for the hills. But even then, they will probably catch you…because they are damn fast runners too FYI. But don’t you dare ask them who is faster between the two. They’re pretty damn competitive, and one of you three may not walk away in one piece.

ANYWAY, after her assuring me that this didn’t change anything in her mind about me, we ended our call so she could get in touch with Mark. Within minutes of her hanging up the phone with me, I saw the name “Mark” appear on the screen of my phone as it buzzed. Slightly shocked, I picked up the phone. Heather had already shared the news with him, which took the weight of telling yet another person off of my shoulders. Mark is certainly a man of few words, but he makes them count. He made it clear that the news didn’t change the way he thought about me and that I had him in my corner for support. To this day it still warms my heart that he showed up for me that night when he too was at a low point.

In the weeks following, John and I were essentially ships passing in the night. After our exchange, many members of my family told me that John would eventually come around and that I just needed to give him time. I thought that could be true, but I wasn’t in a place to put any energy forth to nurture the relationship. That summer he was working on commercial fishing boats, and I had a job working at the front desk of a local gym. With our busy and often opposite schedules, we rarely saw each other. When we would see each other, we would exchange a quick hello or goodbye and then go our separate ways. Before I knew it, I had left for my trip to study in Italy. Those last weeks were such a blur that I can’t even remember the last time I saw him in person and what the last words that we exchanged were. It still haunts me that the last significant conversation we had, was such a negative one. I go back and forth in my mind thinking that I should have made more of an effort to attempt to salvage our relationship, but at that point I simply didn’t have the energy or will to extend an olive branch. I was angry and hurt that he had the reaction he did, and thought that if anyone should make the first move to make things right, it should have been him.

I went to Italy and had the time of my life. More to come on that whole experience later. Unfortunately, my semester was cut short by 3 weeks. Just 2 days before Thanksgiving on November 21, 2012, I received a phone call from Heather and my dad, Albert, with the news that John had taken his life. I left Florence the next day to return home to San Diego.